


Growing Pains

by somethingsomething



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Everybody Lives, F/M, Insomnia, Lack of Appetite, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, PTSD, Polyamory, Pseudoscience, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsomething/pseuds/somethingsomething
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's still life, and something a little like love, after war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ienablu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/gifts).



> Mienuxbleu told me to "OT3 the OT3" and this was the result. The only thing I couldn't get in was Stacker & Chuck. This is the longest thing I have ever written, so hopefully all the threads match up neatly and it doesn't drag.
> 
> And, technically, this fic is part of a "sort of" Christmas thing?? The only Christmas-y thing about this is the setting. Points for effort.

Raleigh Becket wakes up the day after Operation Pitfall in Mako Mori’s bed. Mako is nowhere to be found.

Raleigh dresses and heads down to the cafeteria. It’s mostly void of life, save for empty bottles. A few people are scattered around the tables, either too drunk or too wound up to go back to their quarters.

Raleigh grabs two breakfast trays and heads to Medical.

Mako is asleep in Stacker’s room, her head pillowed on the edge of his bed. A pile of papers and her laptop lay stacked on the floor. Raleigh nudges her awake with his foot.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Little after six.”

Mako frowns. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Raleigh grins and hands her a tray. “Are you telling me that getting six hours of sleep isn’t an ingrained habit after the Academy?”

Mako rolls her eyes. “There is a difference between waking up at five because you have to and because you want to.”

“I’ve always been an early riser,” Raleigh says, shrugging. He sits down in the other chair and starts eating his oatmeal. “I had some PTSD after Anchorage, and the insomnia never really went away. How’s the Marshal?” he asks.

Mako pauses in tearing the crust off of her toast. She already has the base for a pyramid. “The doctors are unsure. He was comatose when they pulled him out, but his vitals were good. There was some internal bleeding that they corrected last night. I had one of the nurses call me when I could come down. I didn’t think you would want to be woken up.”

“What about the cancer?”

Mako looks down at the toast still in her hands. “I do not know,” she says. “The tumor took up brain cells that would have been used to carry the neural load. It was large enough that his brain wouldn’t have been able to carry his half of the Drift for much longer than he did. Neural overload was just a matter of time. The fact that-.” Mako stops. Shakes her head. She stares at nothing before saying, “The doctors are going to do some scans later today.”

Mako breathes out, her entire body shuddering. Raleigh’s 15 again, watching his mom rot from the inside out, Yancy trying to put on a brave face. Back in Hong Kong, Raleigh reaches out. “It’s gonna be okay, Mako,” he says with his hand on her shoulder.

For one second, Mako Mori, Daughter of Tokyo, Head of the Mark III Restoration Project, Hero of the Breach, looks impossibly lost. She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, her back is straight, her shoulders pulled back.

“Thank you for breakfast Raleigh. I have to meet with Marshal Hansen soon. Could you?” she asks, lifting her tray. Her food is mostly untouched. The crust-pyramid has grown by another few layers.

Raleigh takes her tray and watches Mako stride out. At the door, she turns and says “Will I see you for lunch?” Her smile is hard to see, but their Drift was strong; he can feel her intent in the back of his head.

“Of course,” he says.

Mako gives him a full smile, then, and walks out into the day.

 

Sometime mid-afternoon – Mako’s lost track of time in the windowless conference rooms – the doctor in charge of _sensei_ ’s care says that if she has a moment, they have the results of Marshal Pentecost’s brain scans.

Mako does not fly out of the conference room like a bat out of hell. She does snap her laptop closed hard enough to rattle the loose delete key.

The young man giving his presentation is new to the Shatterdome and makes spluttering protests as Mako leaves, but Herc says something along the lines of “She has something she needs to take care of, as do you. Continue.”

Doctor Himura is already waiting for Mako at the nurses’ station. They shake hands and she takes Mako to ’s room.

“We’re not really sure what to make of the scans, to be honest,” Himura says, sticking _sensei_ ’s brain scans against a light box.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re, well.” Himura stops, clears her throat. Says, “His brain looks clean. Completely. It’s part of the reason we took so long. We just kept running him through the MRI.”

“Explain, please,” Mako says.

Himura sticks another scan up on the light box. “This one is from four months ago. This one,” she points to the first scan, “is from this morning. No cancer. It’s just, gone. We don’t know why, we don’t know if it’ll be back. We’re looking at a miracle, Ranger Mori.”

There are words, in both English and Japanese, for what Mako wants to say. She just can’t find them. Her throat works a few times before she manages, “What about the circulatory collapse?”

Himura spreads her hands. “It was a side-effect of the cancer, really. The real mystery is where the tumor went. It’s a miracle the neural strain on a cancerous brain didn’t kill him. Two in one go seems to be pushing it, but here we are. My best guess is the radiation from Striker, but that’s just a stretch. If all radiation treatments were that easy, you’d be in business for an eternity, Ms. Mori.”

Mako shakes her head. “Striker had as much radiation shielding as possible to account for Chuck Hansen’s age when he started piloting and the core shielding was compromised enough that Chu- Ranger Hansen received serious burns.”

“Well, then, Ranger Mori, it appears that your father is all about beating the odds, however they may be stacked against him.”

Mako nods and looks at _sensei_. “How long until he wakes up?”

Himura’s shoulders move up, then down. “Whenever his body is ready. There are some wounds from surgery and Pitfall, not to mention whatever his body did to remove his cancer. That kind of healing takes a lot of energy. It’s just a waiting game, now.”

Mako has waited for her Jaeger, her co-pilot, her vengeance. She can wait for _sensei_.

A week later, _sensei_ opens his eyes for the first time. Two days more and he’s awake long enough to smile at Mako. On the third day, _sensei_ stays awake for two hours.

His first words are, “I am so proud of you, Mako.”

 

That night, two days after being released from Medical, Chuck wakes up screaming into his pillow. Memories tinted kaiju-blue flit across his eyelids. Last night was explaining Easter for the first time in halting Japanese to Mako. Tonight is the feeling of his fist connecting with his brother’s face courtesy of things only found in a Drift.

When it finally subsides, Chuck turns his head to see Max shaking in the corner.

“C’mere, Max,” he says. His throat is raw and the words are barely audible. Chuck swallows and tries again. When that fails, he pats and edge of the bed and kisses to Max. It takes more encouragement, but Max eventually makes his way onto the bed.

Chuck curls around Max and doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning, Herc’s eyebrows will come together and he’ll ask if Chuck got enough sleep. Chuck will pull a face and grind out something about a full eight hours. Herc will let Chuck keep the lie.

 

The Shatterdome settles into a holding pattern of wait and see. Stacker is released from Medical. He and Herc sift through everything that comes with saving the world – meetings about personnel, interview requests, meetings about funding, phone calls from the UN, meetings about Jaeger tech. It’s unsurprising that the marshals go days without being seen.

Raleigh, who doesn’t have any administrative talents, does grunt work for Tendo.

“I’m worried about Chuck,” Mako says, sitting across from Raleigh for lunch, three days after Stacker’s return to co-Marshaldom.

Raleigh pauses with his fork still in his mouth. “Whuh?” he says around the tines.

Mako stirs her noodles. “Chuck,” she says. She might as well be talking about the weather.

“Why?”

“Marshal Hansen mentioned him this morning before the meeting started. He said that he thought Chuck might be spending too much time in his room.”

“Is that so?” Raleigh says, leaning back from the table, arms crossed. “Are you admitting to eavesdropping, Ranger Mori?”

Mako looks up at him. The amusedly unimpressed face he gets doesn’t wipe the grin off his face.

“Aha! I knew it! Even the Hero of the Breach isn’t without her flaw.”

“You’ll notice it’s only the one, Ranger Becket,” Mako says. She tilts her head, her smile half-hidden. Christ but he lives for her smiles.

“So, Chuck,” Raleigh says after a minute.

“We should have dinner with him tonight,” Mako says.

“I thought you two weren’t talking.”

Mako grimaces at her food before eating it. She swallows, takes another bite. Repeats until half the noodles are gone.

“We aren’t,” she says. She looks up at Raleigh. “We haven’t, not really, since we were 16.”

He watches her for minutes that stretch as long as the noodles. “Okay,” he finally says, as if it’s as simple as that. “What time?”

Gratitude flits across Mako’s face. “I should be done by half past six.”

“Cool. Seven between our quarters? Since I don’t actually know where his room is.”

Mako raises a single (perfect) eyebrow. “Yes, Raleigh. I will show you the way.”

Raleigh props his elbows on the table. “You’re a doll.”

Mako rolls her eyes. “You watch too many old movies.”

Raleigh just grins and stays with her until her noodles are gone.

 

Raleigh sits on the steps outside his room, fiddling with an ancient iPhone Tendo dug out. He’d forgotten how annoying – and addicting – Angry Birds is and spends any free time trying to get past level five. It isn’t going well.

A pair of booted toes stop just at the edge of the Raleigh’s vision, and he abandons his game. “Hi,” he says to Mako, all wide grins and cheery voice.

Mako smiles back, a tired, subdued version of the ones from lunch. She runs a hand through his hair. “Hello,” she says and she still sounds like bells. Bells rung by a tired parishioner on a dreary Sunday morning, but bells.

Raleigh catches her hand as it passes over his shoulder. “Let’s go get the koala,” he says, standing up.

Mako swats him. “Be nice. I would prefer it if your face wasn’t covered in cuts.”

“Cuts from Chuck or cuts period? Because if they’re cuts from you….” Raleigh lets his voice trail off, and yeah, he’s swaggering. Just a little because his pants actually fit these days, but thinking about Mako? You’d be nuts not to have to adjust your walk a little with thoughts like that.

Mako whips her head up to look at him, cheekbones turning pink. “Raleigh! We are in the _hallway_ ,” she says.

Raleigh shrugs, grin still wide and honest. “All I’m saying is, if you wanna, I wanna, at least once.”

Mako steps closer to Raleigh until he has to let go of her hand. He wraps his arm across her shoulders instead. Mako does the same around his waist.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mako says. This time, her voice is low and she looks at him, slow and steady.

“Please do,” Raleigh says. He’s not surprised that his own voice has dropped an octave.

Mako hums and leads the way. Raleigh follows.

 

To say that dinner goes well would be an understatement of the variety that no one bothers to correct. Everyone knows that it doesn’t hold any water.

Raleigh wants to drop to his head back and make the most petulant, put-upon groan he can. Instead, he glowers at the spaghetti. If he stabs at it a little more than absolutely necessary, well, it’s better than throwing his fork at Chuck’s face.

“Chuck,” Mako says. It’s a soft, cajoling sound, one that Raleigh has heard fifteen times in the past ten minutes alone. “You need to eat.” She pushes a plate of youtaio towards him. Max is the only one to give it more than a passing glance.

Chuck gives Mako a dead-eyed stare. “I told you an hour ago, Mori. I’m not hungry.”

Raleigh cuts in before Mako can try the cajoling again. “Just eat the damn food, Hansen, and you can go.”

Chuck, apparently, responds well to incentive. He grabs a youtaoi, shoves half in his mouth, and stalks off. Max follows, trailing his leash behind him.

Mako stares after him, mashed potatoes not even halfway to her mouth. Her face is a series of flat lines stacked on top of each other.

“Hey,” Raleigh says, bumping their shoulders together. “It’s not a lost cause.” Raleigh’s not entirely sure of whatever she’s planning, but he’ll back her up. Even if it is Chuck Hansen.

“If you want,” Raleigh says when Mako looks at him, “I can make it up to you.” He drops his eyes to her lips long enough for it to be deliberate and looks back up at her, smiling slow and easy the whole way. 

The flat lines don’t quite melt off of Mako’s face, but she’s definitely not entirely focused on Chuck. “Finish your dinner,” she says.

Raleigh’s pulse kicks up a notch. “Yes ma’am.” The salute is implied.

 

Mako is not one to accept failure. When knocking outside Chuck’s door at noon the next day yields nothing, she takes a page from Raleigh’s book.

Mako finds Chuck on the tallest catwalk in the darkest corner of Striker’s empty bay. Max waits at the top of the stairs, stumpy tail wagging hard enough to shake his entire body.

Chuck looks once and goes back to resting his chin on the lowest rung of the guardrail.

Mako holds a tray out to Chuck, clearly visible in his peripheral. He ignores it.

Long minutes pass and Max is the only one to move. Mako sighs, a noise that starts in her belly as a north wind, rattles in the empty places in her chest, and leaves her mouth tired and worn. She sets the tray next to Chuck and sits on the other side.

She eats and he says nothing. The list of things Mako has waited for is long. Waiting for Chuck to eat is not going to be one of them. Mako stands and leaves. She leaves Chuck’s tray and makes sure that her steps are entirely ordinary.

 

Slowly but surely, Mako’s life leaves the stagnant holding pattern of the month post-Pitfall. She spends a lot of time with Raleigh, who smiles and jokes and looks at her like she’s hung the moon and the stars. Some nights she sleeps with him, some nights she doesn’t. Some nights she stays. More often than not, it’s only for a few hours. She doesn’t miss the way Raleigh watches her when she gets dressed, the half-hearted smile when she closes his door behind her. They haven’t slept in her bed since the first night after Pitfall.

Chuck, too, is part of the new pattern, less frustrating than (most of) the U.N. councils she meets with. More frustrating than Raleigh, at any rate, though most things are.

Her inclusion of Chuck into every meal she can manage confuses Raleigh. She still catches herself ghosting with Raleigh some days, and it’s as heady as it was that first day on the Kwoon mats. Unsurprisingly, it’s the strong emotions that bleed through the most. Raleigh’s irritation with Chuck could bend a fork most evenings.

Mako leaves for L.A. in mid-May to meet with American senators about removing the Shatterdome from the Long Beach Wall and repurposing it. She comes back to find Raleigh with a black eye. Chuck has two broken fingers.

“Movie night,” she grinds out one night after dinner. Maybe it’s the jetlag, maybe it’s being away from Raleigh for two weeks, maybe it’s the stark fact that Mako’s entire life has been ending before her eyes and every paper she signs accelerates it. At any rate, Raleigh and Chuck don’t say anything.

There’s a rec room that’s so named because it’s too large to be a janitorial closet but too small to be residential quarters. It fits a couch or two and a TV thanks to some creative decorating. Mako slides something into the DVD player while Chuck and Raleigh sort themselves. They wind up pressed against opposite sides on the couch.

Mako draws in a sharp, angry breath and holds it. She sits in the middle, not touching either one of them. Lets the air in her lungs out through her nose. Raleigh’s shoulder twitches at the noise; he knows why she’s angry.

Images flit across the screen and Mako sees none of them. They could be halfway through the movie and she wouldn’t know it. Instead, she sits hunched in the middle of the couch, halfway between her past and what could be her future. She wants both, she wants neither, she could care less. It’s an unending pendulum and it makes her dizzy.

Mako pauses the movie. The lights are still on. Raleigh can see her clearly, is looking right at her, can probably feel the reckless sloshing inside her, right up against her throat.

Mako turns and looks at Chuck. Looks him up and down, lingers in some places and skims over others. She tilts her head to the side, says, “Raleigh. Do you remember when you said that if I wanted to, you wanted to, at least once?” Her eyes never leave Chuck’s.

Raleigh swallows, open mouthed. It echoes in Mako’s ears. “Yeah,” he says.

Chuck stares at Mako, face blank, except for his jaw, clenched tight in a firm line.

Mako climbs into Chuck’s lap. He’s still trying to melt through the couch. Mako’s left knee presses into Chuck’s hipbone. He doesn’t move over.

Mako cups Chuck’s jaw in her hands. Tilts it up for her to kiss his lips. It’s not soft, but Chuck leans into it anyway. Raleigh gets up to lock the door.

 

Raleigh lasts exactly three days of Not Talking About It.

“Was the Chuck thing a one-off or…?” He trails off, goes back to bouncing a tennis ball he’d accidently pocketed after throwing it for Max one afternoon.

Mako looks up from the papers – and her tablet, and her laptop. She gives Raleigh a blank look.

“The Chuck thing,” Raleigh says again.

Mako blinks. Too many hours working and not enough sleeping. “Feeding him? That Chuck thing?”

“No, the having sex with Chuck thing.”

That gets Mako to blush. The corners of her eyes pinch, and she leans back against her desk chair, like she’s embarrassed.

“I’m not _against_ it,” Raleigh says. Mako looks up at him, surprise as clear as daylight.

“You don’t sound too sure,” she says.

Raleigh shrugs, fiddling with the tennis ball. It spins and spins between his fingers. He look back up at Mako. “I just want to know the rules, I guess.”

Mako twirls her pencil. She thinks for long minutes, and Raleigh sits quietly. He’d sit quietly for her all day, if that’s what she wanted, and he didn’t have things he had to do.

Finally, she stands and walks to the door. She doesn’t ask for Raleigh to follow her. For all that they still don’t know about each other, this, at least, is a given.

This time, Chuck opens his door the first time Mako knocks. It’s probably all of the conditioning Mako has been doing, exposing herself and Raleigh to Chuck as much as she can, but Chuck looks marginally less pissed to see them than usual. Of course, any improvement is a huge one at this point, as far as Raleigh’s concerned, even if it’s barely measurable.

“Yeah?” Chuck drawls. At least, that’s probably what he was going for. It sounds too tired when the sun’s only set an hour ago. And, yeah, Chuck’s leaning against the door too much for it to be casual.

“Got some questions,” Raleigh says. He tries for nonchalant, but just like with Mako in her office, falls a little short.

Mako doesn’t say anything, just looks at Chuck, one step above her, two above Raleigh. Chuck stands back and says, “Yeah, sure.”

Max snuffles around Mako and Raleigh, waiting to be pet. Chuck flops gracelessly onto his bed while they indulge Max.

“This about the other night?” Chuck asks when Mako and Raleigh stand up.

“Yes,” Mako says. She turns Chuck’s desk chair until it faces him. She sits, and Raleigh rests against the desk behind her.

“What about it?” Chuck asks. He lies on his back, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. “It was good, yeah? Got it out of your systems? You can fuck off now and leave me in peace?”

There is a part of Raleigh that understands, soul-deep, what it’s like. What it’s like to Drift with two people, what it’s like to wake up and not know if you’re you or some strange compilation of all three. What it’s like to loose someone to the kaiju. What it’s like to not know how to be six feet instead of 250. What it’s like to go from the top of the world one day, to a chapter in a textbook the next.

For the most part, though, Raleigh is this close to trying to give Chuck a blackeye that matches his own except–

Except there’s a voice inside his head. _More control, Miss Mori,_ _sensei_ says, and it’s not Raleigh’s memory. The sentiment is the same.

Raleigh breathes out through his nose, eyes closed, the way _sensei_ taught him in a life that isn’t his.

“Look, man,” he finally says, “it’s not about that. Do you really think we would’ve made sure you’ve been eating _something_ for the last three months if it was to fuck you one time three nights ago?”

Chuck sits up at that, shoulders hunched. His hands grip the underside of the bedframe. “That so, Ray? Why don’t you fucking prove it?”

“It’s the truth, Chuck. Take it or leave it.”

Chuck scoffs and it scratches against Raleigh’s skin like so much sand, and no amount of breathing exercises is going to work. “Neither of us have to prove _anything_ , you–”

“Raleigh,” Mako says, iron wrapped in cotton. “Sit down.” Raleigh sits.

“We came here tonight,” she says, turning back to face Chuck, “because it wasn’t a one-off.” She says it like it’s tea that’s been brewed too long, bitter and sticking to her tongue long after swallowing. “I…should not have acted so rashly and I should have spoken to you and Raleigh sooner. I apologize.”

Chuck startles a little when her words register, his hands coming loose. Raleigh quirks an eyebrow; it’s not an easy thing for Mako to admit she’s wrong, not when everything is calculated down to the last nut and bolt. It’s even harder for her to admit it to Chuck. Raleigh had seen that much of their history in the Drift.

“We’d like to make it a,” Mako pauses, looks over her shoulder to Raleigh. “A thing? Is that how Americans say it?” She smiles as she asks, a gentle jibe to lift the tension. Raleigh smiles back and nods.

“Yeah,” he says to Chuck. The smile doesn’t leave Raleigh’s face. Not by much. “If there’s enough proof for you.” Mako huffs, but Raleigh doesn’t take it back.

Chuck, for his part, looks lost. He clears his throat, says “I, uh.”

It’s a temptation, but Raleigh doesn’t roll his eyes. “Rules?” he says, tapping the back of Mako’s chair. “That might make it easier to unstick Chuck’s throat. Get us a yes or no.”

Chuck’s face pulls back together into a look that conveys his explicit annoyance with Raleigh. As far as Raleigh can tell, it’s not all that different from Chuck’s normal look.

Mako’s shoulders pull back, just a centimeter, but Raleigh gets it. Don’t antagonize the toddler.

“Anything you’re against?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck looks like he’s being asked what two plus two is. “How about just straight sex. Think you can handle that, Ray?”

Raleigh gives in. He rolls his eyes. “It’s Raleigh, and there’s one too many dicks here for that. If you want me to leave, you need to say so.”

Chuck rolls his eyes hard enough that Raleigh’s pretty sure he hears them rattle around in Chuck’s head.

Chuck opens his mouth again but Mako says, “Boys,” and they both sit up straight.

“Yes,” she asks, looking back and forth between both of them, “or no? You can change your mind.”

Raleigh looks at Chuck. Chuck looks at Raleigh. “Yes,” Raleigh says at the same time Chuck says, “Sure” with a one-shoulder shrug. He looks at a spot under Mako’s chair while he does it.

Mako stands and crosses to Chuck. He doesn’t look up until she has two fingers under his jaw, tilting it up until she can lean down and kiss him.

 

Later, Raleigh watches from his door, boot keeping it open, as Mako opens the door to her own quarters.

She pushes the door open and looks over her shoulder at him. There’s a little less exhaustion on her face and a little more bliss. But then, three orgasms will do that.

“Good?” Raleigh asks, soft and quiet even across the hallway. It’s not a wide hallway, but it feels like that, sometimes, when his mind is too big for one body and he has to fit all the memories back inside.

Mako tilts her head and smiles at him. Her door clicks closed and she ducks under his arm to slip into his quarters.

“Coming?” she asks over her shoulder, still smiling at him.

Raleigh laughs and closes the door behind him, Mako stripping down to her underwear. “Coming where?” he asks back, not because he doesn’t know, but because he wants to hear her voice again.

“Bed,” she says, slipping under the covers, her back to the wall. She leaves the other half of the bed uncovered. “You can be the little spoon.”

Raleigh laughs again at that. He climbs in, back pressed against her chest, his clothes in a pile by the door.

She leaves early in the morning to shower before the day’s work, but that’s alright. Raleigh rolls over when the door shuts and shoves his nose into her half of the pillow. 

 

Across the Shatterdome, Chuck wakes up in much the same manner as always – in the middle of the night, with his face in the pillow to muffle the screams, phantom fire running up his left side.

He went to bed later, so he’s up later and doesn’t bother trying to fall back asleep. He reassures Max that everything’s alright handsome, don’t worry, just a bad dream, and takes a shower.

It’s late for Chuck, but early for the rest of the Shatterdome, so the mess is mostly empty when Chuck sits down and slips Max some of the bacon he’s not going to eat anyway.

Herc sits down across from Chuck. Figures – red hair in an empty mess works better than a lighthouse on a clear night. Chuck should’ve waited another half hour for Herc to be safely ensconced with the U.N. or whatever other world power it was today.

“Sleep alright?” Herc asks the pancakes.

“Yeah,” Chuck says, poking at the eggs.

Herc’s quiet, his fork and knife scraping against the tray. Then, “Maybe…. Maybe you should see someone, yeah?” He looks up at Chuck when he asks, not raising his head, just his eyes.

Chuck’s shoulders knot up. “See someone?”

“A counselor.”

Chuck doesn’t say anything, just sits there, trying to breath. “I don’t-” he chokes out.

Herc looks up, head and everything. “Chuck,” he says. “Chuck,” he says again when Chuck doesn’t look at him.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Herc says. “It’s just help. Nothing wrong with that.” He looks at Chuck’s hands, clenched white on the tabletop, but doesn’t reach out. Chuck breathes out a tiny sip of relief. He’s built for war and made of steel, not cotton. Anything softer and he thinks he’ll break, right in the middle of the mess.

Chuck gets his muscles to unknot and nods. “Okay,” he breathes out, staring at the half-melted butter and puddles of syrup on Herc’s tray.

“Okay?” Herc repeats, leaning down until he can see Chuck’s face again.

“Yeah,” Chuck says.

“Alright then,” Herc says and goes back to his breakfast. “Eat up,” he says, and Chuck picks up his fork.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time mid-November rolls around (Raleigh starts mentioning Thanksgiving, a concept Chuck finds laughable), restlessness claws through Chuck. He barely sleeps during the night and eats even less. Shatterdome staff either goes out of their way to avoid him or marches down hallways at speeds that threaten the sound barrier.

Dr. Jensen changes the medication dosages until he sleeps through the night, though it does little for the dreams. She also suggests going away for Christmas.

“What?” Chuck says. He’s been pacing along Jensen’s bookshelves while detailing every little thing wrong with Raleigh this week (he’s too clingy, Mako won’t shut him up, Max actually likes the dumb blond). Jensen’s nonchalant suggestion takes him off-guard. Jensen checks something off her clipboard.

“Go away for Christmas. I think the distance would be good for you.”

“And do what, exactly?”

“Relax. Talk to people. Remember traditions. The holiday season is often used to reflect on the old year and hope for the new one. You could use some of that.”

“Traditions?” Chuck casts about in his childhood and finds a few dusty memories of a bright tree and hot summers. Everything else is Jaegers.

Jensen’s eyebrows turn down a little at Chuck’s confusion. “Yes. Did you and your father not celebrate?”

Chuck shifts on his feet. “Not after Mum died. Bigger things to worry about.”

Jensen hums in her throat. She flips through a few pages. “Tell you what. Go somewhere with Raleigh and Mako. You spend a lot of time with them. Leave the dog with your dad. Try and communicate your feelings without a surrogate.”

Heat rises in Chuck’s face. “I-. We-. It’s-.” Jensen looks at Chuck as if she has all the time in the world to listen to him untangle his feelings.

“It’s not like that,” is all he can tease out.

“How is it, then?”

Chuck grimaces. “Fucking, okay? We fuck, I leave or they leave, and the Heroes of the Breach do whatever it is they do when they’re alone. That’s it.”

Jensen gives Chuck a look over the rims of her glasses. She scrawls something in her notes. “It’s just a suggestion, Chuck. From the way you talk about them, they’re important people in your life.”

Chuck makes a noise like dismissal and paces up and down Jensen’s bookshelves.

 

The universe, Chuck decides at approximately 1830 in the middle of a dinner he’s only picking at, is out to get him.

In this particular instance, Raleigh slides into the seat across from Chuck with more noise than necessary. Mako is far quieter and graceful. She doesn’t look at Chuck.

“We should go someplace for Christmas,” Raleigh says.

Mako looks at Raleigh before going back to her food. Chuck assumes it’s to make sure Raleigh isn’t wearing some kind of mind control device. Chuck, for his part, is trying not to bend his fork in half.

“Why the fuck would I go anywhere with you two for Christmas?” Chuck says.

Raleigh pulls a face that says he is Not Impressed. “What else are you going to do? Mope around the Shatterdome? Besides, we want you to come.”

Chuck’s chest is a tight ball. He doesn’t need Raleigh and his stupid holidays and his stupid inclusion.

“That sounds nice, Raleigh,” Mako says right as Chuck opens his mouth. “Somewhere away from people. Separate bedrooms, maybe.”

Raleigh looks surprised at the last bit, but otherwise looks like Mako’s shitting rainbows.

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Whatever. C’mon, Max,” he says, grabbing his tray. The uneaten jello threatens to spill over its container.

 

Mako spends the next day in a meeting with the Floating Heads of the U.N. attempting to tell her which pieces of Jaeger and Drift technology should be made available to world militaries. Mako says no, the Heads say yes. Rinse and repeat.

By the time they close the meeting for another day, all Mako wants to do is crawl into her bed and not come out for days. She doesn’t want look at another person, let alone talk to one.

Instead, she sits down next to Raleigh, high up above the ground and across from the bay that used to house Danger.

Raleigh slides a tray over to Mako. They’re both quiet while they eat.

When it nears a half an hour of silent Raleigh, Mako heaves an internal sigh and says, “It has nothing to do with us, you know.”

Raleigh nods to the empty bay. “I know.” He heaves his own very external sigh and stands. “I’m gonna drop this off at the mess,” he says, lifting his tray. “Want me to take yours?”

“I’ll go with you,” Mako says, standing and giving Raleigh her best attempt at a smile. They’re both so tired.

They stop in the hallway between their rooms.

“See you in the morning?” Raleigh asks.

Mako shakes her head. “I have to be up early. Lunch is more likely,” she says, trying again for a smile that doesn’t look pained.

Raleigh smiles like the sun on a cloudy morning. “‘Night, Mako,” he says, turning to his door.

“Raleigh,” she says. He turns around to find Mako right there, cupping the back of his head with one hand to bring his lips closer to hers. Mako doesn’t miss the look of bliss on Raleigh’s face when they pull apart.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, sincere, empathetic, and in Japanese.

Raleigh smiles, brushes her hair away from her face. He presses another kiss to her forehead before walking up the steps to his quarters.

Mako watches him until his door closes. She turns and goes to Chuck’s quarters.

 

In the two seconds it takes for Chuck to open his door and recognize that Mako’s standing on the other side, his brow is relaxed, his jaw loose and eyes tired. Mako watches Chuck draw in a breath, and his whole body follows. He’ll probably remark on Raleigh’s absence. It’s been a while since he ran with that script.

“May I come in?” Mako can say before Chuck can start.

He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t say no, either. Mako takes that as an invitation and slides past him.

Funnily enough, Chuck’s room looks a lot like Raleigh’s. Same PPDC-issued sheets in frustrated piles on the bed and on the ground. Same pillow with too many lumps from being folded into a thousand different shapes. Instead of photos lining the walls, Chuck has a dog bed at the foot of his own.

Chuck closes the door. “I’m not in the mood, Mori,” he says.

Mako closes her eyes, counts to ten and opens them again. There is one thing she wants to be doing right now, and Chuck isn’t it.

“I am not here for sex,” she tells him. “Not tonight.”

Chuck pulls a face that’s supposed to express disgust at the idea of sleeping with Mako. It grates, nearly as much as _sensei_ ’s refusal of a pilot position. Not because a relationship with Chuck is the culmination of the events of her life, but because she gives as much as she can, and Chuck casts a dull eye over all of it.

“I’m here,” Mako says, barely managing not to speak through her teeth, “because I wanted to talk to you about coming with Raleigh and I at Christmas.”

Chuck sneers at that. “If you two want to go off and have a romantic vacation, go right on ahead. You don’t need to keep stringing me along.”

Mako studies Chuck long enough that he starts to fidget. “That is not what this is about,” she says. “We care about you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mori,” Chuck says, rolling his eyes. He crosses over to his bed, falling into it. It’s less of a flop and more the fall of a body too tired to hold itself up anymore. “Door’s over there.”

Mako studies Chuck for a minute longer. When he doesn’t do more than breathe, she moves to leave. She pauses at the door and says, “At least think about it.”

 

“How’re things this week?” Jensen asks a few days later.

Chuck makes a _tch_ sound. He’s standing in front of the window, arms crossed. “Becket suggested we go away for Christmas, him, me and Mori.”

“What did you say?”

“Asked why I would want to go.”

“Do you?”

Chuck snorts outright, the sound grinding along his throat. “They’re good lays. That’s it. And don’t think I don’t know where he got that suggestion.”

“I would imagine that Ranger Becket is fully capable of coming up with his own ideas, Chuck. I don’t discuss patients with other patients.”

Jensen sounds annoyed enough that a curl of embarrassment rises in Chuck’s stomach before he squashes it. What does he have to feel embarrassed about?

 

Raleigh’s not all that surprised when Chuck shows up at his quarters around ten. He’s even less surprised when Chuck pushes him against the wall, no greeting, just teeth and nails. It’s part of this thing between the three of them, flitting back and forth amongst their quarters. Maybe Chuck goes to Mako for something gentler, though he doubts it. Raleigh doesn’t know, doesn’t ask, and Chuck and Mako don’t tell. 

He is surprised when Chuck lets himself be, well, _cuddled_ for longer than it takes for Chuck to get his breath back.

Raleigh is another minute from dropping off when Chuck’s voice rumbles underneath Raleigh’s ear.

“Wait, what?” Raleigh says, lifting his head to look at Chuck.

Chuck looks like he just took a bite of a lemon and doesn’t want anyone to know. “Christmas. What you said last week. Fine.”

Raleigh’s eyebrows draw together. “That’s it? One week later and you’re just good to go?”

Chuck’s lips part, like he thinks Raleigh should be a little more ecstatic. Raleigh’s glad, he wants Chuck almost as much as he wants Mako (well, it’s a work in progress) it’s just-

“What?” Chuck demands, sitting up on his elbows. “If you want a sonnet, go read Shakespeare, Becket.”

“That’s not….” Raleigh shakes his head. Tries again. “I’m glad. Just curious about what changed your mind.”

Chuck scoffs, jostling Raleigh as he climbs out of bed. Raleigh watches Chuck dress in jerky moves. Thirty minutes is better than no minutes, Raleigh reasons.

Chuck’s about to open the door when Raleigh sits up. “Chuck,” he says.

Chuck stops, hand on the latch. He looks impatient, as if he has somewhere to be this close to midnight with no more kaiju.

“Thanks,” he says, “for changing your mind.”

For a second, Chuck looks unguarded. Then –

“Cheesy isn’t a good look on you.”

Raleigh sighs once the door is locked again. At least they’re not actively trying to beat each other up anymore.

 

Three days before Christmas, Mako steps out of the airport into the snow and cold. Raleigh’s close behind her, the heat of his chest bleeding through her coat. He’s only wearing a sweater, coat unbuttoned. Chuck,meanwhile, is wrapped from head to foot in any winter wear he could find. What they can still of his face glowers. It would be intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that Chuck keeps shivering. As it is, he looks like an angry snowman.

Raleigh presses a kiss to Mako’s hair. She can feel his smile before he pulls away to lead the way to the rental cars.

Once they’ve found the right car (they all look the same and Raleigh get them turned around three times), Chuck wedges himself between the backseat and right door. Mako doubts he falls asleep instantly, but a silently pissed-off Chuck is better than a vocally pissed-off Chuck. Or so she decided at thirteen. There hasn’t been much reason to change her opinion since then.

Raleigh, it turns out, is the best driver of the three of them. It’s a useless title, though, because it’s been five years since the last time he’s driven. Chuck and Mako are better drivers in theory, since driving PPDC Jeeps on the tarmacs is easy enough, but nothing like driving through city traffic.

Mako’s heart stops trying to cram itself into her throat after the third time Raleigh makes a turn on the right side of the road instead of the left. After that, Mako holds Raleigh’s hand between their seats, squeezing it at every stoplight before the highway. He gives her a lopsided smile; even without the ghost-Drift, he can all but read her mind. Mako returns the smile.

Somewhere in the mid-afternoon, when Raleigh’s on cruise control and not actively trying to crash the car, Mako falls asleep still holding his hand.

 

Christmas morning starts with Mako tiptoeing across the cold hardwood into Chuck’s room to nudge him awake. She’s wearing a sweater of Raleigh’s that hangs down far enough that it takes him until halfway down the hallway to realize she’s not wearing any underwear.

By the time his brain processes what that means, Chuck’s being pushed under the blankets heaped on the big bed Mako claimed as hers, Raleigh half-hard and sleepy-eyed on one side, Mako giddy and crowding up against him on the other.

There are waffles and real maple syrup for what’s technically lunch, but they count as breakfast. The dishes aren’t even halfway to drying before Raleigh’s pressing Mako against the counter and pulling Chuck closer by the drawstring in his sweats.

There’s nothing wrong with the picture as a whole, which is exactly the problem. Nothing’s wrong in this cabin with its great food and better sex. The crawling and clawing starts in the back of his head, tripping down his vertebrae and picking at his ribs as it goes. It settles as a pit in the middle of his chest, behind his heart. It pulses in time to a metronome that ticks with a steady “Go, go, go,” but there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do.

And this time, there’s no Drift to plug it up.

 

The day after Christmas, Mako curls up on one end of the couch, feet tucked between the cushions for warmth. Raleigh turns down the thermostat two or three degrees lower than necessary for walking around in long sleeves and cotton socks. After the third day, Mako gives up trying to change the setting and steals Raleigh’s socks and sweaters instead.

Chuck’s sprawled in an armchair, half of his torso on the cushion, his legs propped up on the footstool. He has the TV on, flipping through channels, spinning the remote between his fingers when something seems interesting.

Mako watches Chuck and his little huffs and jerks of irritation, and goes back to tapping through the news on her tablet. If Chuck has something to say, he’ll say it. Asking him about it has only ever left bitter tastes and blank looks.

Raleigh pokes his head around the doorframe leading into the kitchen. “We’re almost out of butter. Wanna come with me?” Raleigh asks Mako.

Mako smiles at him and shakes her head, holding up her tablet. She’s behind on e-mails and files from the past couple days.

Raleigh fakes a pout at her and turns to Chuck. “You wanna come with me?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck manages to frown deeper than before. “No, Rahleigh, I don’t want to watch you caress every carton of cream in the diary aisle for an hour.”

Raleigh raises an eyebrow. “Something you wanna talk about?”

Chuck’s eyes roll towards the ceiling. “No, Rahleigh, I’d rather just sit around here with you two, all day, doing nothing.”

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to, Chuck,” Raleigh says carefully.

“Whatever,” Chuck says, rolling his eyes again and standing up. The remote falls to the floor. “I’m going out,” he says. He jams his feet into his boots and pulls on his coat on his way out the backdoor.

Raleigh stares after Chuck for a long minute. “Did I miss something?” he asks, turning to Mako.

Mako shrugs. “Emotional intimacy is…difficult.”

Raleigh sighs. “For more than one of us, yeah?”

Mako smiles at him, small and a little apologetic. “Unfortunately.”

“Come,” she says when Raleigh stays leaned against the doorframe. “You need butter, yes?”

Raleigh looks at her and laughs once without humor. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Mako stands up from the couch, the couch cushions threatening to pull Raleigh’s too-large socks off her feet. She walks until her chest brushes up against Raleigh’s when they breathe. “I changed my mind,” she says and her smile is a little mischievous.

Raleigh laughs again, just once and a little warmer, as Mako shuffles them towards the door. She catches him looking out towards the backdoor again before they leave.

 

It’s edging on midnight by now, but Chuck’s not really interested in going back inside. The air up in the mountains is clean, crisp. He can even see the stars.

The snow is a couple days old, the top layer melted and refrozen into ice. It crunches as someone walks up behind Chuck.

He sighs and his breath billows in front of him in a white cloud. “Not in the mood, Becket,” he says.

“Guess again,” Mako says.

Chuck manages not to groan, but he does grimace. Becket might’ve been better. As it is, Mako sits down next to him.

“Where’s Becket, then?” he asks.

Mako side-eyes him at his sullen tone. “Raleigh,” she says, “is baking. He’s on his third batch. We are running out of things to put the cookies in.”

Chuck snorts. Fucking figures that Becket would be a stress baker.

After a while, Mako reaches into her pockets and pulls out tiny bottles of alcohol. She lets them spill from her fingers onto the snow between them.

“Where’d you get these?” Chuck asks.

“The grocery store. Raleigh needed more butter.”

Chuck takes one of them and twists off the top. He knocks it back without looking at the bottle; it’s too dark to read the label anyway. Mako does the same.

The moon moves west and the temperature drops. Chuck and Mako take another shot. He’s about to ask if this is all Mako came out to do, drink as if they don’t have a stack of fights and broken promises as tall as a Jaeger between them, but when he turns to Mako, she’s staring at him like he’s a blueprint worth studying. The words die in his throat.

“It is okay to not know what you’re doing anymore,” she says. Chuck wants to turn away. He didn’t come here to have his soul bared before him. If his own father couldn’t do it in the Drift, what makes Mako think she can do it out in the snow?

Mako turns back to look down the mountain slope. “It feels as if our lives are over. We closed the Breach and won the war, and now it’s over.”

“I never really thought I’d get to this point,” Chuck says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “No kaiju, no Jaegers, no war. You make it look so easy, like all it takes to move on is to sign it all away and shack up with Becket.”

Mako gives him a stern look. She turns away when Chuck drops his eyes. It’s a poor apology, but they’ve never been big on communication anyway.

She turns back to staring at the stars and says, “It’s not. I worry that Raleigh and I are only together because of the Drift. He would do anything I asked of him, but he should also be happy. I worry that the PPDC will not be big enough, strong enough if the kaiju come back. I worry the tech we have had to sign over to the public and world governments will get into the wrong hands.”

Chuck doesn’t say anything for long enough that the moment has probably passed, but –

“Dr. Jensen knows what she’s doing,” he says, staring hard enough at a nearby pine tree that it just might catch fire. “If you need to, uh. Talk to someone about. Things.”

Mako smiles at him, small, genuine and more than a little amused. “Thank you, Chuck,” she says, and Chuck doesn’t know what for, but she hands him another bottle. He throws it back a little too fast and almost chokes on the burn.

Somewhere around bottle number five, Chuck’s morosely stubborn mood gives way to something that feels like regret. It’s gnawing, a cold counterpoint to the pit between his lungs. He downs the bottle, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. It’s a little slurred.

“What?” Mako says. Her own bottle is halfway to her mouth. She freezes like that, eyes wide (well, probably; there’s only so much light reflected off the snow).

Chuck closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. For being a shit. For outside Pentecost’s office. For this afternoon.”

The metal bottle cap makes little scraping noises against the glass as Mako screws the bottle closed. “I should apologize as well,” she says.

That gets Chuck to open his eyes. “For what?” he asks, looking at her for longer than a glance for the first time in, what, an hour? “Wanting to shove my face into the nearest pile of concrete more times than you can count? Don’t be. I would’ve done it, too.”

“Maybe not concrete,” she says with a smile. “Maybe the nearest bed.”

Chuck looks away again at that. He hopes that there isn’t enough light for Mako to see his blush.

“Yeah, well.” He stops, shakes his head. Says, “God knows we did that plenty of times, too.”

Mako laughs a little at that. She reopens her bottle and swallows it in one go. “Come on,” she says, standing up.

They’re both a little unsteady on their feet as they head back to the cabin. The lights are still on, but Raleigh is passed out on the couch. The kitchen clock says 2:30.

Mako spreads a thick afghan over Raleigh. He shifts in his sleep as she tucks the edges in but doesn’t wake up. Mako presses her lips to Raleigh’s forehead.

Chuck leans against the doorframe, watching. The space behind his heart pulses and for once, it doesn’t hurt.

 

Chuck wakes up with one of his legs slotted between Mako’s. She’s awake, her thumb smoothing circles along his hipbone.

Chuck huffs out a breath and rolls onto his back.

“Hangover?” Mako asks.

Chuck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “A little. Not bad.”

Raleigh opens the door and sticks his head in. “Morning,” he says to Mako. His smile looks like a sunrise. When Raleigh smiles at Chuck, it seems…muted.

“Sleep good?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck nods before sitting up right into a beam of sunlight. He’s a little more hung-over that he thought, judging by the way his head swims.

“Fuck. How are you okay?” he asks Mako.

Mako shrugs, her own smile spreading across her face, slow and sweet as molasses. “I must hold my liquor better.”

Chuck grimaces. Not bloody likely. He hangs his head, trying to duck out of the sunbeam. It follows. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Just after seven,” Raleigh says. He sounds delighted.

“Seven? You’ve got to be joking.” With that, Chuck buries his head under a pillow and ignores Mako and Raleigh’s giggles until he falls asleep.

 

Chuck wakes up for the second time to the smell of bacon and coffee. He stays in bed, sheets warm around him and smelling a lot like Mako and a little like Raleigh.

Chuck gets out of bed and the cold air is enough to make him want to skip the entire day. If only bacon could be made in bed. As it is, his toes curl against the hardwood all the way down the stairs.

The kitchen is an island of warmth and light. Mako’s sitting on the counter next to the stove. Pans crackle and spit as Raleigh steadily adds bacon and pancakes to plates on the counter.

“Good morning,” Mako says. “Again.” She smiles as she talks, one corner of her mouth lifted up.

Chuck rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway. 

“You don’t-” Raleigh says over his shoulder, stops. Quirks his mouth to the side. He waves the spatula over the stove and starts again with, “This is gonna be another couple minutes, but Mako’s been helping herself to the bacon. You can too.” Raleigh looks- Well, he looks like a lot things. Unsure, for starters.

“About yesterday,” Chuck says before Raleigh can say anything else, “I’m sorry, yeah?”

Mako and Raleigh look at each other, more than a little surprised. Raleigh because he’s never heard an apology from Chuck before, and Mako because that’s two apologies in eight hours. The bacon starts to burn. Raleigh startles and piles the last of it onto a paper towel to catch the grease.

Mako slides off the counter and goes to the table, taking the pancakes. Raleigh’s left standing with the bacon and a Chuck valiantly trying not to merge with the doorframe.

“Yeah,” Raleigh says, and he smiles full-out at Chuck. “Yeah, okay.”

Chuck stares at Raleigh long enough that Mako has to call them to the table with a “Boys.” Chuck and Raleigh sit down with her, and they eat breakfast together.


End file.
